


Little Wing

by Milligan (Blackheathen)



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26808535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackheathen/pseuds/Milligan
Summary: The same scene as "Midnight" from Jareths' perspective.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Little Wing

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by photo of a beautiful black barn owl which is what Sarah might look like if Jareth took her out flying.

“Are you ready?” 

She looks exactly like I knew she would after discovering that I would indeed take her flying after her petulant request. Petulance and theatrics go hand in hand with this one. In fact I don’t even think she realises how she sounds most of the time. Sarah has such a long list of demands from the world that a goblin scribe would scarce be able to write them on a foot long vellum. But I have come to discover that this is the way with children of this current age. The parents of such youngsters take great pride in fostering independence; these strong willed brats who can recite their rights and fully expect the world to pick up after them. As someone who has spent eons interacting with humanity and their young, I can confess that I do not always see the benefits of raising such modern monsters. 

Children were so much more malleable in past times and maidens even more so. I try not to look too impatient at the slow fidgeting and that endearing way she tries to read me. 

It didn’t take long to get her to follow me. I’d started appearing in the tree outside her window, late at night but quite visible in the streetlight. At first she was startled, running to check on the infant, but later she would look at me boldly and with the curiosity I had first sensed in her some time before. It was that innate sense of wonder that had led her to me in the first place after all, and there are fewer and fewer people in these times who can put aside that intellectual leap and take the sideways step into unreality. 

Well at least she hadn’t gone mad. Not very much anyway. 

“Are you ready?”. I try to keep my voice soft, which is quite an effort she knows nothing about. Sarah won’t stand for any of my sharper tones or my usual haughty demeanor. She still thinks she has the upper hand, having ‘defeated’ me in Labyrinth. I am content to let her believe this, for now. 

“I’m ready”. I can hear the tremble in her voice. My own probably sounded much the same the first time it happened to me. Besides, a little adrenalin will help the change. Then I tell her about the clothes. She cusses and mutters and stalls, trying to work out where her true desires are tonight. Finally she agrees and strips out of her dull, dull clothes (I really don’t know why such independent children would choose such drab apparel) and then she stands before me in only her flimsy undergarments and I can tell she’ll go no further. Fair enough, I know, but the sight of her is confusing to me. I know that there are no suitors in her human life, no one she would disrobe in front of. Does she trust me that much, or is it that she does not see me as a man? 

I close the small distance between us. Lets do this, as they say. I have to have skin on skin contact, so I remove one of my gloves to place on top of her head. Her hair feels like silk to touch, inky black that outlines my pale fingers. I inform her rather too lately that she isn’t going to like this part, but before she can change her mind I have whispered the incantation and the magic is set free upon her. 

I do not understand the mechanics of magic. I only know that I can wield it if I choose. I also know that it has its own agenda in the world. I watch the spell grip her tightly. For a second all I can see are her huge green eyes wide with fear and then she is gone, shrinking and fighting as her physical self is reordered into the shape I willed it. 

I look down at my feet but I can barely see her in the dark. She is face down in the grass and I can make out the shape of wings. I bend down and lift her up. She is light, strong, perfectly formed. And very black. I have never seen a black owl before. I disentangle her shredded underwear from her wicked looking talons and set her to perch on my arm. The bird is hissing and clacking its beak at me. 

“Hush” I tell her. Conversation will have to wait until I too have wings. But for the moment I just want to look upon her under the moon. I run my hand along the back of her head and over the shoulder, coaxing the wing to open. She has black feathers, each perfectly formed and so soft to the touch. On her wingbacks are scattered a universe of small pale spots, each catching the light. Her face has the heart shape that marks this particular species but the tiny plumes are russet with a dark outline. I find myself so captivated by her beauty that I stop worrying that she isn’t exactly what I had planned and besides, her dark plumage matches her dark hair perfectly. She has owls eyes, but when I look closely into them I can see her own green ones like a double image behind. I will call her Midnight, named as much for her inky wings as it is for her witchlike ability to enthrall me. 

I settle her on a branch in the tree and prepare to transform myself. I chose the owl as my other-self many eons ago. On the wing and wind I can cover long distances quickly and I can slip through the smallest of cracks. I can be in and out of portals before anyone notices and I can spy on mortals without being seen. My clothes are woven of mostly magic stuffs so I can dissolve them easily when I transform. In a few seconds I am sitting next to her on the branch and I can hear her thoughts rattling around in excited disarray. It takes just a few moments to show her how to frame those thoughts as speech, and to hear me as I hear her. 

“Follow me” I call out as I take to the air. No time like the present. I circle the tree, waiting, but as I guessed she is still gripping on to the branch. She thinks she’s going to fall, crash to the ground. 

“I will catch you Sarah. Every time”. Now, where had that come from? Not like me at all, even if it is true. 

Then I see a dark shape shoot out from the tree canopy and I am holding my breath as she takes her first flight. I can hear her thoughts in a continuous stream of whooping and shouting in wonder. She flaps her wings and starts to lift into the sky. I have to beat the air hard to catch up to her. In flight she is even more spectacular, like a silent shadow outlined in moonlight. I have the usual cream and silver colouring of a barn owl but I feel positively drab next to her tonight. I lead her away towards the town. 

The roofs, windows and streets of this town are well known to me. There are not that many places where my Underground lays so close to the Overland, even in this overpopulated country they call America. I have tried explaining to Sarah about the nature of the worlds and how each lays upon the other with barriers thin as paper but impenetrable as iron. In some places, if you are skilled or determined enough, you can find a weak spot and make there a portal. On my side, any one of the menagerie of little folk can find and use such a place, but for many hundreds of years we have all agreed to keep the other side hidden from human eyes. 

Midnight is quite spellbound by her new perspective on her little world. Owls can’t smile but I can see her happiness and hear her laughter. She wants to circle her house so many times, peering in the windows. They are all dark except for her own which has a small lamp shining out from the glass. I can hear her thinking, wondering why I chose her window, her life to disrupt. I would tell her if only I knew myself. 

We keep flying until I can sense her starting to tire. I’ve taught her how to glide, to swoop and turn with flick of the wing. We have chased and startled squirrels and rabbits. There is a growing sense of pride in me that she learns it all so well, that she has lost all her fear and has for the space of an hour left all her teenage concerns behind. But as her wings and back begin to burn, so does her sense of self. Her mind is becoming vague, all the new sensations meshing with her human thoughts in a tangle of identity. I was expecting it, so I lead the way back to the park. On the way we pass over the fox-shape of one I know but have had little contact with. He stares avidly at Midnight as she glides past and I can sense his hunger. 

“Pretty little thing, such little wings” he whispers as we leave him behind. I’m tempted to go back round and smite the creature, but he is not of my Kingdom and I dare not risk an incident where I might be overcome Aboveground. I do understand his appraisal of her though. There are strong portents and fates surrounding the woman in this phase of her life. Luring and capturing virgins was once a common occupation of the fae, hoping to trade on their inherent magic. I make a mental note to reinforce the wards I have set around Sarah, lest she be lured away and stolen. 

Meanwhile, Midnight has spied the portal and is making a beeline straight towards it on the edge of the lake. Being shrouded in magic, of course it is quite visible to her now and I’m cursing at myself for bringing her so close. I know very well the lure of portals on humans, as all fae do, using them to capture mortals in times long past. But I also know this candle to which she is drawn is just a passage way to dozens of realms. Unless she knows the way, speaks the words or has me to bind her, she could end up anywhere. Labyrinth is confusing and treacherous at times, but it is a fairy world compared to some others. They would swallow this maiden whole and probably me as well if I went after her. 

I have to use my weight and flying maneuvers to push her away and all the while she’s looking back, so before I know it she’s slammed head first into a huge tree. I can see her black wings spread wide and tail flaring as she tumbles down through the branches, sharp talons grasping at empty space. It takes but a moment for me to orientate myself and transform just in the nick of time to catch her as she heads towards the ground. She’s laying there, her back against the palm of my hand and in her eyes I can see the shock and embarrassment. I can’t help but laugh at her as she glares up at me. 

“That was quite the landing, Midnight” I tell her. With the other hand I check her over for injuries. I find myself taking my time with it, because her rumpled feathers are so dark and soft and I enjoy touching them. A long flight feather has snagged itself loose. I twirl it between my fingers and run the soft edge across my lips. The sensation makes me shiver as I tuck the feather into my hair. Pressed between my two hands, I can feel her little bird heart thrumming. So delicate, such a fragile form. I could squeeze just a little if I wanted. I cradle her closer to my body. So temptation finds me once more. I imagine a gilded cage on the windowsill of my room. I keep the key on a chain around my neck. I set her free every night. She would come back to the cage every morning, I’d be assured. She might even think she did it of her free will. 

Midnight has gone still and quiet with fear. I think I may have spoken too much. 

She may never know just how exquisite is the pain of having such power, and letting it go. But humans do not do well in captivity. Do not ask me how I know this. 

I set her down and speak the words that will undo the spell. Sarah springs back to herself and spends a moment gasping and shaking as she runs her hands over her face before holding up her fingers as if to learn them again. I can see she has a few bruises and scratches from her landing accident. I can see them all very well because of course her clothes are scattered somewhere else about the park. I am somewhat incorrigible of course. 

She’s standing naked in the dark, fuming and blushing red from head to toe. Ah humans with their quaint little rituals and rules. Damn near irresistible. I’ve looked on her before of course when weaving up the Ballroom spell and casting that silver gown around her. I think that telling her this might help sooth her current mortification but unfortunately it does not. She’s dropped her hands away from herself to clench them into fists at her sides, so I’m afforded a very good look before I relent and weave a simple dress around her. The plain blue cloth is nothing as extravagant as I would want to see her wear, but it makes her look very much like a young maid of a century ago. 

Damn. I’ve moved before thinking again and I’m pulling her close to my body. This must be the closest I’ve ever been to her. Held against my chest I can feel her heart drumming like an echo of the owl. It feeds into my own pulse, sending blood rushing to my groin. I whisper into her ear as my hand skirts across her breast and I can feel her response and the confusion it causes. There are so many other things I could show her and as she wants to pull away I hold her tighter for just a second until I can compose my face. I have never felt more like an owl hunting for his prey than I do right now but I will follow the rules with this one, however easy it would be to just snap my fingers and have her trot happily beside me for all eternity. 

“Not yet”. She’s looking quite bold despite herself and it gives me a pleasant thrill. I imagine beneath that dress, an untapped part of her tingles and grows damp against the cool air, sans underwear to contain it. 

Later when she has returned safely to her room, I go back and dutifully collect her clothing from the park. I make a little gift of her tattered underthings. Then I withdraw to the tree outside to watch her sleep for little while. I am remembering her star speckled black wings as they carry her away on her first flight. She had been so afraid of falling. 

My own talons grip the branch painfully because all of a sudden, I have that same fear. 


End file.
